


wooden nickel

by oonaseckar



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: Catfish - Freeform, Catfishing, Episode: s01e02 Credit Where Credit's Due, F/M, Gen, Hacking, Impersonation, M/M, Plagiarism, Pre-Episode: s06e06 Basic Email Security, appropriation - Freeform, creditgrabber, creditgrabbing, criminal activity, elise duran, email hacking, sophie kinsella
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23093155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonaseckar/pseuds/oonaseckar
Summary: Charles is a scientist, but uses his field of work sometimes to create art that he hangs in Xavier homes and properties, or gives as gifts.Except now, exact replicas are being exhibited in a commercial gallery, owned by the Lehnsherr Institute.  As the work of one Emma Frost.Thing is, these are works he hasn't even created yet.  They only exist in his head.Aw, it'sjunior rodeo on.
Relationships: Emma Frost & Charles Xavier, Emma Frost/Erik Lehnsherr, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. do you really think that just because you have an idea it belongs to you?

**Author's Note:**

> 'Don't take any wooden nickels' -- = don't be a chump, kids, check the bona fides.
> 
> Chapter title is from noted delightful highly creative philanthropist Obadiah Stane.

If he gets just a shade angrier, something in Charles' head is going to _pop_. It's a known statistical risk for telepaths, after all. 'But she admits it right there in the exhibition title! How can you just sit there and deny any wrongdoing, when she puts it right on every flyer and catalog? Look here!' He stretches out a slightly shaking hand, and points out at the bold gold lettering, half-obscuring the photograph of an impressively physically blessed woman in a white catsuit.

The words read, 'Things I Stole Out Of Your Head'. And below them, 'Artist? Telepath? Cat Burglar? Aug. 19th – Sept. 2nd.' Mostly the lady's rocking the cat burglar look. But there's more than feminine pulchritude on Charles' mind. He takes a deep breath, and reminds himself not to swear, gazes earnestly at the rather pretty receptionist, her smooth brown hair falling round her shoulders as she eyes him with patient firmness.

'I want to see Mr Lehnsherr,' he repeats, slowly and quietly. 'If he's not in, then an appointment will be acceptable. I have checked out Ms. Frost's representation, and I think it will be to her agent's advantage to discuss this matter with me.'


	2. Chapter 2

And she isn't going to go along with it -- Charles can tell she's just going to stonewall him, and he's going to have to resort to all the mess and expense of the family lawyers -- but at least they're on retainer, even if Justin _is_ a twat and it's almost not worth it if it means having to deal with _him_...

Then, the phone on the reception desk buzzes. This smooth plasticky bint picks up, listens, and her eyes pop a little.


	3. Chapter 3

"Yes, sir," she says, after listening a moment. She listens some more. "Well, normally I would, but given the circumstances of this case I... Yes, sir. I'll do that right away."

She puts the phone down, and looks back at Charles, still pop-eyed. "Would you care to take a seat, Professor Xavier?" she asks, and her manner is much modified from the gently-bred highly-educated snark of a moment before. "Mr Lehnsherr will be down to see you in just a moment. Can I get you a coffee while you're waiting?"


	4. taking credit for someone else's ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Elise Duran's superb romcom adaptation of Sophie Kinsella's simply diviine chicklit 'Can You Keep A Secret?' 
> 
> Alexandra Daddario's eyes, my God!

Charles accepts the coffee. He's more interested in results than in narked gestures. And a couple of minutes later, he's sitting with a volcanically hot espresso, when there's a fusillade of sharp rapid footfalls down the private stairwell, behind the reception desk, barred off to the public behind velvet rope.

Charles dumps his coffee on the low white occasional table, festooned with spider plants. (Standard art foundation vibe, and they need to update their look, as well as begin ethics-checking their artists.)

He stands, moves forwards. Not quick enough, though. Erik Lehnsherr is already across the white-tiled expanse of flooring between them -- practically flying, smoothly tailored suit jacket almost taking off like wings. Oh, Charles knows who he _is_ , though they've never met. The bastard does a couple of high-profile interviews a year, under whichever hat he's currently favoring. Captain of industry, or advocate for major international engineering projects, bringing water to deserts and saving whales and little fluffy bunnies, or running his family's charitable and yet edgy arts foundation...

He knows _of_ him. Never met him. Not like this, up close. And having his hand shaken, not of his own volition.

A two-hander. A _double-handed_ handshake, from this bounder. Bloody cheek.


End file.
